Joe Cole

Joe Cole Aug 2015

Give me an acre of forest
Beneath an acre of sky
Where a million stars look down
And the earth in contentment sighs

Joe Cole Aug 2015

I sit there in my garden
And watch the clouds up there
I see fairy story castles
And dragons flying there
It's all imagination
Just images in my mind
But this is my time to sit, think, write
Of the images I see
Next time you look at moving clouds
Imagine what you see
Then just let the pen take over
And write those moving images for me

Wow, now there's a challenge, just write about what you see in the ever moving, ever changing clouds

Joe Cole Aug 2015

Nightmare

The sweat ran in rivulets from my body beset by dreams
Of devastation and horror invading my my mind
Body parts floating in pools of jellied blood
Kids as young as ten now high on drink and drugs
Why then did we give our lives
To make the world a better place
Why then the blood we shed for you
Is good blood gone to waste
You know, we bled for you, suffered, died
To give you a better place
But you laugh in scorn and hurl abuse
Kick dust into our face

We suffered, we died to give you democracy
Our bodies rot in foreign lands
To give you freedoms speech
But you hurl our dying in the faces
Of those who died for you
Oh you, the drug fueled simpletons
Who don't even try to acknowledge
What we gave up for you

For your tomorrow
We gave up our today

Joe Cole Aug 2015

My South Country

For many long years I have wandered
Many long years I have roamed
But a voice in my head is now calling
Calling me back to my South Country home

I have walked in your tropical forests
Experienced the hot desert sun
Climbed your mountains snow capped peaks
In your lakes and blue seas I have swum

Now a voice in my head is calling me back
Back to where I was born
Once more to walk in the pine woods
Under the warm summer sun

Many years ago I did leave her
A youth so fearless and bold
Now I hear my South Country calling me back
To the place where I can grow gracefully old

I will never forget the friends that I made
As I wandered your far distant shores
And if ever you visit my South Country
You'll find a welcome sign over my door

Something I wrote a long time ago but always enjoy reading

Joe Cole Aug 2015

LIVING

I will build my home in the high woods
No electricity nor phone
My morning alarm the chorus
Of birds welcoming the dawn
My drink, water from the chrystal stream
The nectar of the gods
My church the wide expanse of sky
Pure nature for my god
No more the stress of daily life
Ño more the strident ring
Of the mobile phone with yet another message
Of gloom and dark despair
I know that I must die
As all of us must do
All I ask is that you bury me under a tall tree
Here in the place that I love
Take a walk in the wild wood
In the wind driven rain
Smell the smells of wild mushrooms
Growing un restrained
Or sit with me in the pine woods
When the sun is beating down
Intoxicated by the pine resin scent
Invading body and mind
Come with me my friends

Aug 2015

Richard Riddle

Proud of You Helen (re: "Here's the Saddest Part of HP")

"Pettiness, and jealousy, go together.

But, there is not a place for it here on HP. We write what we wish, what we feel, how we feel; about our lives, loves, adventures; our spirituality; we write because it's a beautiful hobby for many of us, and not to begin a competition as to who can do better.
There are so many on this site whose talent I so admire since I joined the site 2 years ago. Because of this nonsense, we recently lost a great writer and friend, whom I will miss terribly. Those that participate in the pettiness, jealousy, hatred, and discontent, are in a minority. Hopefully, the other contributors, writers, poets, essayists, old and new alike, also realize this. Let us not give up our seats on this "Poet's Train!"

copyright: richard riddle-August 18, 2015